Malfoy Manner: Business Time
by mrs.milfoy
Summary: Another two-part extravaganza wherein we see Draco becoming quite the businessman - with mum's assistance, of course. You will like Draco by the end of this tale. By the end of the series, you will love him.
1. Risky Business

Malfoy Manner: Business Time

Part the First: Risky Business

"So you see, Mr. Malfoy, investing in Pondershott Potions opens up some incredible doors for financial gain. Especially now that they've absorbed Barton Brewmasters. It's a sure shot – a blend of the trusted and the fresh! We're already seeing record gains with percentages as high as I'm a bloody arse bugger and a wet noodle to boot. I'd also like to blah blah for fourteen hours while yakkity yakkity who gives a shiny pink puckerhole and more professional sodding opinions that mean gobshite and fuck-all –"

"Mr. Lewis." Draco interrupted the solicitor with a calmly raised hand.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?" The mole of a man licked his lips and straightened his stiff collar.

"Would my father have done it?"

Here, the lawyer looked away uncertainly. "Well…" A sigh. "No, sir. He would have said it was too risky. And I understand his –"

"Do it." Draco was rising from the uncomfortable leather chair.

"Wh-what?"

"I said do it," Draco repeated. He straightened his own collar. It was hot as balls in his office. "And anything else on that parchment that my father would not have done?" He pointed to the roll the solicitor held. "Do that, too."

Lewis Lewis (really) was taken aback. He stammered and nearly left the safe bastion behind his modest oak desk. "But! Surely you're not serious, sir! You can't just – "

Draco turned to him sharply. "Yes, I can," he said. "I'm a Malfoy." And he left the solicitor's office with a great relieved sigh. The sun shone brightly on Diagon Alley, but a cool breeze heralded fall's imminence.

Lunch in a courtyard would be nice. The Hermitage had a lovely shaded patio and a fine filet mignon. He headed that way with something akin to a smile. It frightened passing pedestrians.

Oh, and across from The Hermitage was that quaint little jeweler. He would stop in and find some ridiculous trinket for his mother. If chocolates guaranteed him oral sex, he imagined diamonds could buy him anal. It was worth a shot…

"Hey, Draco!"

_Oh, hell. _He stopped only yards from the restaurant and turned. "Hello, Harry." _Don't you dare hug me in the street, you scurvy lout._

Harry hugged him one-armed in the street. "What are you doing here?" He asked.

Draco ignored the new stares. "Business, I'm afraid. Boring, stuffy old solicitors with sound advice and tiny spectacles. You know."

Potter was laughing. "Well, I had similar business for Hogwarts procuring books. Glad it's done. Fancy lunch? I was thinking the Leaky Cauldron."

"Er…" Draco looked behind him. "Potter."

"Yes?"

"I want a steak."

"Oh."

Draco bit his lip uncertainly. "I'll buy this one, and you get the next?"

Potter grinned. "Alright, then."

Harry had never eaten at The Hermitage. He remarked on everything from the serving staff's uniform to the table décor to the tenderness of his chicken.

Draco nodded and ate. His steak was perfect. "I can't believe you didn't have steak, Potter. It's almost…amoral here."

"Oh. Well, I've never been a big steak fan," Harry explained.

Draco shook his head, and Potter moved their conversation forward. "So. What are you up to these days?"

Malfoy gave him a blank stare. "This," he said, gesturing with both hands. "I meet with lawyers and accountants and goblins who tell me what to do with my money, then I eat lunch, go home, chat with mum and eat supper." He didn't go into any of the activities that often occurred _after_ supper.

"Oh. Well." Harry wiped his mouth. "Sounds…fun."

Draco shrugged. He had no complaints.

"Why don't you go out, mate?"

"Out?" Draco flagged down a server and requested a dessert menu. "Out where?"

Potter winced. "Just…out. You know. With friends. Meet witches. Have a few pints."

"Ah!" Draco nodded. "Out. Yes. Well." He fingered the edge of the table cloth. "I've…never been a big 'going out' fan. I guess."

"Oh." Potter blinked. "Well. What about dating? Do you…see any witches or anything?"

"What?" Why the hell was Potter asking him these things? Draco's upper lip formed a thin sheen of sweat. He wiped at it discreetly behind the delivered dessert menu.

"Or…" Potter seemed to be sweating now, too. "Do you fancy blokes?" He seemed to be regretting having brought this subject up at all.

"What?"

"Nothing!" Harry sighed and settled back in his seat. "I just…knew a chap who asked," he said. Then, quickly, "Anyway. Doesn't matter."

Draco looked astonished and stricken. It couldn't be attractive. He lost his appetite for dessert. "How's Hogwarts, then?" He blurted too loudly.

Potter was relieved at the recovery of civilized conversation. "It's good! It's good."

"Good." Draco had not stopped nodding. He was hypnotizing himself. "And, uh…McGonagall?"

"Really funny," Harry said. "You wouldn't expect it, but she has quite the sense of humor."

"Actually, looking at her hats, I'm rather unsurprised by that revelation, Potter."

"Oh, yeah." Harry laughed nervously. "They're…they're pretty crazy."

Silence fell and seemed to make sport of the pair. When the waiter came for their dessert orders, they both declined, seeming to accept that they'd made a valiant effort but were willing to accept defeat. Draco asked for the bill.

"Thanks for lunch," Harry said. "You were right. Excellent food."

"I can't believe you didn't have steak."

"Let's…" Potter put both hands on the table. "Let's try to forget about the steak."

Draco couldn't contain a grin at the scarhead's annoyance. "Right. I'm, uh…still working on forgetting the questioning my sexuality, myself, but you're right. Beef is a far greater conversation stopper."

Potter blushed. "I'm sorry about that."

Draco waved it off gracefully. "When's the first quidditch match?"

Harry shook his head, looking a bit pained. "Oh, I thought you knew about that." He frowned. "No matches this year."

"What the fuck do you mean 'no matches,' Potter?" Heads turned toward them. But Draco was accustomed to this, so continued losing his gob. "What are those kids going to do with no bloody quidditch? And why? What's the old Scotch witch's problem? I thought she enjoyed –"

"It's not McGonagall, Malfoy!" Harry interrupted, using Draco's surname to get his attention. It worked. "It's a matter of funds, really. I mean, the pitch would have to be completely rebuilt. New brooms, equipment, uniforms. And after all the repairs to the school, the new classrooms and dorms, new books, teachers, memorials… What's left has been set aside as emergency discretion and to pay salaries." He shrugged sadly. "Quidditch just isn't important as getting these kids taught and taken care of and…re-acclimated, I guess."

"Re-bloody-acclimated?" Draco tossed his serviette to the table. "I'll tell you what will re-bloody-acclimate the little buggers." He stood, pushed in his chair, waved his wand over their bill and leaned toward Potter. "Quidditch. And I'll be damned if there's no quidditch at Hogwarts this year. Or any other year. Good day, Harry. I'll be seeing you soon, I imagine." And he left.

Speechless, Harry was left giving an uncertain wave.

Again in the busy street, Draco was stewing. Nearly frothing. _A matter of funds? What did they do with all my bloody money? Teacher salaries? That should be ministry responsibility. Who the devil is running the Board of Governors for Hogwarts now? A trained pygmy puff? An untrained one? Fucking hell._

He dodged into Lilith & Co., still attempting to cool his heels. An older wizard greeted him from behind a gleaming display case. "Good afternoon, young sir. May I be of assistance?"

Draco took a deep breath. "I need something…nearly utterly ridiculous," he said, glancing about the elegant jewelry shop.

"Ah." The gentleman touched the side of his own nose. "Are you in trouble?"

"No." Draco leaned conspiratorially toward the shopkeep. "But I'm always looking to prevent future trouble."

"Smart man." The wizard gestured Draco to a more shadowed display unit across the way. Their shoes tapped the parquet as they approached. "Is this for a girlfriend, wife, mother or lover?"

Draco sucked air through his teeth and rocked on his heels a bit. "Would you understand if I said she was…a bit of all four?"

The man nodded his salt-and-peppered head as if this was not unheard of. "You _do_ need something special." With a minor flourish, he whisked a velvet covering away from a compact case that was heavily warded.

Draco looked in a whistled lowly. "You're very good," he said.

"Experience," the saleswizard replied humbly. "Elven silver, sir. The last of its kind, I'm afraid. Never to tarnish. That shimmer you see is the captured earth energy inside." He cocked his head. "Witches claim they feel it…reverberate. But I wouldn't know about that."

Draco tapped his upper lip, considering. Finally he pointed to a delicate necklace shot through with light blue stones. "That one," he said decisively.

The wizard retrieved the piece briskly and held it out to his customer. Draco hefted it. "Gods! It's heavy!"

Another shrug from the shopkeep. "Elven silver," he repeated. "Shall I box it, sir?"

Draco nodded, handing it back. "Elven jewelers must be some muscular little bastards," he muttered. He didn't even look at the bill of sale, just wand-tapped it. Best not to know, really. "May I use your floo, sir?"

The wizard bowed deeply and gestured down a short flight of stairs at the back. "Please, sir." And as Draco turned to go, "It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco smirked. "It has been. I'll probably be back. I usually manage to get in some trouble no matter my precautions."

The shopkeep looked put-upon. "Don't we all, sir. Don't we all…"

Green flames sent the young Malfoy home. He had much to think on, important business to accomplish, and a witch whose approval would be necessary to his ends.

Said witch was seated on a plush grey divan in the drawing room when he flooed in. She glanced up from her needlepoint. "That didn't take long," Narcissa drawled.

He dropped onto the divan at her feet. "You know I can't tolerate solicitors."

She grimaced at the embroidery in her hands. "What did he say?"

Draco blew air through his flapping lips. "Something about investments and percentages and puckerholes…"

"What?" She was alarmed. "Ouch!" In her alarm, she pricked her finger.

"Here." Draco tugged the injured digit to his lips. Her eyes went half-mast when he sucked it. He stroked her hand and wrist. "Dangerous hobby, mum. Why do you do it?"

"I don't bloody know," she whispered. Her quickened breaths suggested a necklace may be unnecessary in procuring sweaty afternoon sex.

"Mum?"

"Hm?"

"Where's the elf?"

"Mint is grocering, today."

"Excellent." He cast her needlepoint to the floor and pressed her into the divan. She kissed him eagerly, helped him shrug out of his jacket. He slipped free the silk ribbon on her bodice and bared her to his hands and the drawing room's warm sunlight. "Gorgeous," he murmured around a nipple.

She plucked at his shirt buttons. "You never told me what the solicitor said." Her fingers found his bare skin.

Draco hissed. "Um…" _She can't really mean to discuss this now? _He tugged at her skirt and she arched so he could remove it. "We've invested in some…potioneering firm." This last bit was muffled as he was tugging her knickers down her legs in his teeth.

"Some what?"

He spread her creamy thighs, repeating, "Potioneering firm."

"Oh!" His busy mouth spurred her response to a shout. "Sounds lucrative," she whined.

She was hotter than the solicitor's office and wet. She'd been thinking about this – the naughty minx. And that was good, because he wasn't sure how long he could wait to take her.

And he didn't have to wait long. She tugged insistently at his hands on her thighs. "Now," she gasped.

He fussed with his belt buckle while she worked open his trousers. The few seconds gave him just enough time to form a wondrous idea. "Up, mum."

"Wha?" She was not in processing mode. He pulled her to a sitting position, removed her soft cotton corset and turned her. Her left leg was bent over the back of the chaise while her right knee hooked into the cushion. The position opened her up obscenely and Draco groaned, stroked her wide, dripping slit.

She bucked and gave him an over-shoulder invitation. The look alone nearly did him in, and he slid inside her more deeply than he could recall. They moaned in unison.

He started pumping slowly, draped across her back, caressed her arms, breasts and belly. "You're truly developing…a mind for business, son," his mother panted.

"You think?" he pumped a little faster, clutched her hips.

"Oh, yes!" She cried, either in agreement or ecstasy.

"I suppose it's about time," he grunted. He knelt, used her body for leverage and set a punishing rhythm. She loudly plainted with each thrust. He was flush against her cunt, balls slapping her clit. The smacking sound of their bodies meeting was remarkable echoing off the tiled ceiling. "Narcissa. We should have done this earlier."

She nodded , orgasm overwhelming any ability to articulate a cogent response, wailed into the arm of the chaise and wrung him dry almost bruisingly. They collapsed in an awkward, sweating pile of flesh.

Draco chivalrously helped her extract her leg from its perilous perch. She groaned as feeling returned to the appendage, and he massaged it in understanding. "I think we should discuss business this way more often, mum."

She sighed in contentment beneath him. "Very well, son."

Draco patted her arse like one would a prized filly. "Speaking of business, I may be in the study for a bit. I've some documents to search out."

"Mm. Good."

He grinned. She was shagged out. "Don't fall asleep here, mum. What would Mint think?"

"Bugger Mint."

He chuckled as he parted from her and began dressing himself. "You don't mean that. Why don't you have a nice bath and a lie-down?" He bent and kissed above her curvy little bum. "I'll wake you before supper."

"Oh, alright." She pushed up on her elbows and blew bangs out of her eyes. He handed her pieces of her clothing one by one, still smiling rather widely. "Have fun in the study."

He kissed her lips. "I'll try."

Mint had dusted the dreary office it seemed. Draco wandered about it for a moment, not missing the smells of stale cigar smoke and greed. He pushed the rolling chair back and forth behind the great cherry desk for a moment, lost in thought.

His dead dad's spiky handwriting stared up at him from a few parchments left scattered on the blotter. Draco lifted a piece of parchment and stared at it. His own handwriting was neat, with a courtly lean. It bore no semblance to this scratching.

_First things first._ He swept the stacks of old parchment directly off the desk and into the bronze waste bin. A wave of his wand fired open the thick, cobalt window hangings and light flooded the tall, vaulted room. _Better. _Another wave fluffed the plush ottoman propped before the floo. Draco suspected he'd be making quite a few calls soon.

In the built-in bookcases behind the desk were rows and rows of spine-dated ledgers. It was simple enough to locate the one he needed and pluck it free. He cracked his knuckles and settled into the leather-cushioned chair. His brows jumped. _Rather comfy. _"Right then, father." He opened the ledger. "Let's see if you really knew any useful people."

The elf popped in to retrieve him for dinner. "Oh, damn," Draco groused. He hadn't realized how late it was. "Is my mother aware dinner is served."

Mint nodded. "Mistress is already in attendance, young master."

"Hell." He took the steps down to the dining room two or three at a time and skidded to a halt at his seat at the head of the table. "I'm sorry," he said. "I lost track of time."

She smiled. "It's alright. Did you find what you needed?"

He laid his napkin cross his lap. "I think so." Lintel soup. He poked it with his spoon, lip curled.

"Care to tell me about it?"

"I will." He pushed his soup aside and leaned toward her. "First, I'd like to give you the present I got you today."

Her eyes brightened and she leaned toward him. "Present? What's the occasion?"

He shrugged. "Can't a boy think of his mother once in a while?"

"Depends on what he's thinking of her," Narcissa replied.

Draco produced the box from inside his jacket. "Why don't you see if you can guess what I was thinking."

She bit her lip adorably as she lifted away the lid. She froze, eyes widening at the contents. "Draco."

He smiled. "Do you like it? The blue matches your eyes."

Her fingers were over her mouth. Haltingly, one hand reached toward the shimmering strand til she just touched it. "It's…" She shook her head.

Draco stood and walked around her. "Let me see," he whispered. He smoothly draped the piece around her neck, watched it fall on her creamy skin. It was a perfect length, cradled by the peak of her breastplate. It accentuated that dip he loved to kiss. And yes, it set her eyes ablaze.

He swallowed as he re-seated across from her. Perhaps the necklace had been a mistake. Other wizards would definitely notice its dazzling effects. "Perfect," he said.

Her fingers lingered on it, brushing her skin. Her lips pursed and she fixed him with a bold stare. "What do you want?"

"What?" _What?_

"I'm no fool. And I was your father's wife for over twenty years. Wizards don't give witches gifts like this one unless they want something…impossible."

He spread his hands. "I…nothing!"

She slapped the table. "Not nothing! What is this business plan of yours? I have a feeling that's what this is about."

"You think I'm bribing you?" He was incredulous, never expected her to be so suspicious of a gift.

"Yes!"

"Ridiculous." He folded his arms.

"Then what is it?"

"What is what?"

"This project of yours. Whatever kept you preoccupied in the study all afternoon."

"I'm going to tell you, dammit!" He huffed.

Mint brought in the main course. Narcissa clammed up. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Thank you, Mint." His mother slid a plate of pasta toward him. She waited until Mint removed the soup and left the room before looking back to her son expectantly.

Draco heaved a frustrated sigh. "I ran into Potter today. We had lunch." Her 'I'm waiting' eyebrow had not abated. "He told me that there is to be no quidditch at Hogwarts this year."

Her 'And this concerns us how' eyebrow joined the 'I'm waiting' eyebrow. "Oh, come on, mother! I want to help give the students their quidditch."

"I see." She dropped her hands into her lap. "And I assume this will cost us?"

Draco held up a finger. "Not as much as you'd imagine." He began enumerating his facts thus far by ticking off his fingers. "Number one, we own a portion of a wizarding lumber company. Number two, the same contractor who built the original pitch at Hogwarts deals with our solicitor and accountants. Number three, the same supply company that father bought the Slytherin team's brooms from is still happily in business and promised him a generous discount should he require their services again. Number four, bulk robes can be acquired cheaply through any distributor. And number five…"

"Yes?"

He waved in vexation. "Fuck. I forgot number five. But number five is good." He wagged a finger at her. "Really good!"

She was nodding. "It's your decision, Draco."

"No, it's not. It's our decision," he muttered. "And I'm pissed you thought I was trying to buy you."

"Weren't you?"

"Not on this project, witch!"

"Ah, but you admit you _were _trying to buy something!"

He blushed. "Maybe."

"What?" She demanded.

"Merlin!" He leveled a beatless gaze at her. "What do you think?"

She blinked a few times, then blushed redder than he had. "Oh."

"Oh," Draco repeated sarcastically. "Not that it was necessary," he added. "But I thought a little incentive… And for fuck's sake it really is gorgeous on you."

She appeared sheepish. "It's the most beautiful piece I own." She fingered it again. "I apologize for suspecting your motives in error."

He smirked. "I suppose I can see your assumption making sense. And honestly, if I'd thought of it ahead of time, perhaps I could have gotten such a ploy right."

"You need no ploys, Draco." Her hand reached across to his. "On either count. I think what you want to do for Hogwarts is admirable. But I have a piece of advice."

"Please." He squeezed her hand.

"Talk to the headmistress before you do anything drastic. Make certain she even wants to consider this option."

Draco's jaw tensed, but he nodded. "Right. I'll floo her tomorrow. I have quite a few calls to make…if she's willing to go through with it."

"Good." Narcissa released his fingers and grabbed her fork. "Now eat. You'll need your strength."

"My strength?"

"Mm." She swallowed a mouthful of pasta. "I intend to show you my gratitude for the necklace after dinner. Unless, you'd rather I just gushed like any other witch."

He hardened in his trousers. "No! No." He too prepared to eat. "I look forward to your…unique expressions of thanks, Narcissa."

She smiled. Business, for the moment, was completed.

**AN: **Thanks to all my loyal readers and my loyal reviewers. Thank you to the dragon most implicitly. Thank you to the contributors to Malfoy Manner's extensive soundtrack, including The Decemberists, Deadly Syndrome, Dresden Dolls, Crowded House, Tori Amos, Timbaland, Prince and (believe it or not) INXS.


	2. Mixing Pleasure

Malfoy Manner: Business Time

Part the Second: Mixing Pleasure

Minerva McGonagall was quite shocked to hear from Draco Malfoy. Her shock only increased as he outlined his plan to her. He'd never seen a woman purse her lips more than his mother did before he talked to McGonagall.

"Mr. Malfoy," she trilled. "I do appreciate your…unscaled generosity. But you must understand Hogwarts will never be in a position to pay back such a sizeable loan."

"I didn't use the word 'loan,' headmistress." Draco was growing frustrated. Why did she seem so hesitant to accept? "If it makes any difference, I could have a contract sent to you stating that all materials and building would be considered donations."

"Mr. Malfoy…" She sighed. "Draco. I wonder at your motives, to be quite honest. If you feel some sense of…debt –"

"I am no doubt indebted to many at Hogwarts…Minerva." He enjoyed her little bristle. "But I assure you this particular gesture is one of interest in the students' enjoyment. Quidditch was my favorite part of school, to be honest. And it's healthy – invigorating! It provides marvelous incentive – "

"You're preaching to the choir, Draco." She shifted uncomfortably in the floo. "I'd like to refer the matter to Kingsley and the Board of Governors. It will have to go through them, anyway."

Draco tisked. "No offense, headmistress, but from what little Potter has told me the Board of Governors may not have Hogwarts' best interests at heart."

"No offense taken, Draco. In fact, you'll hear only agreement from me. But it's the way things are done. And Kingsley is firmly on our side. Prepare your figures, Mr. Malfoy, and we'll begin the process."

_And wants to shag my mum. Wonder if she would… Nah. _"I will, headmistress. And…I thank you for your valuable time." He made to withdraw from the floo.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes?"

Even in the green flames, he saw her face soften. "Thank you. Though words don't seem enough, I thank you. Hogwarts thanks you."

Draco nodded curtly and left the flames. He felt a strange something in his chest and put his hand over it, just rubbing. He consulted the ledger, and made another floo call.

In fact, he was four floo calls and four pages of notes into the day when his mother came into the office with lunch. "How is your project progressing?" She asked, placing the sandwich tray on his desk.

"Well enough." He poured tea. "Compiling notes for McGonagall to present to the Board. And Kingsley."

She nodded. "Anything I can do?"

Draco grinned. "Wear something sexy when we visit the Minister?"

She rolled her eyes – a habit she'd picked up from him. "Nearly done?" She was wearing his necklace. He fondly remembered that she'd worn it and nothing else for the duration of last evening.

"Not quite." He reached in a drawer for a fresh sheet of parchment. "I've Quality Quidditch Supplies to contact. And the contractor." She nodded. Draco had turned away for ink before he realized she was leaning toward him for a kiss. When he turned back, she was awkwardly retreating. "Gods." He grabbed her arm, tugged her across the desk. "I'm sorry, mother." He kissed her soundly, but withdrew before she could get her fingers into his hair. "I'll see you at dinner?"

She nodded. "I suppose."

"Good." He headed back to the floo, heard the door snick shut behind her.

Again, he was late for dinner. This time, her lips were much thinner. He grimaced as he slid into his chair. "I'm sorry, mum. I got caught up again." She didn't reply. He tucked into his Caesar salad. "Good day?" He asked.

She tore open a roll rather viciously. "Fine."

He nodded, chewing thoughtfully. "Are you alright?"

She buttered the roll with a vengeance. "Fine, yes."

Mint popped in with the stuffed chicken breasts and sautéed truffles. He looked at his mother and smirked. "My favorite?" She tried not to smile, nodded. "You're fabulous." She did smile at that. He hesitated to tell her… "Mum?"

"Hm?" She gave him a definite come-hither brow.

He bit his lip. "I, um… I'm waiting for a floo call. Shouldn't be long now." The come-hither brow turned into the go-thither brow. "And then two little owls to send off and I'm done!" He reached for her buttery fingers, but she extracted them. "Don't be angry," he said. "As soon as this project is complete, I will be on time for every meal. I promise."

"Don't promise." She sighed. "I'm sorry. I need to…accustom myself to your working more." She glanced at him. "I suppose I had you all to myself for so long, it's difficult now to share you."

He couldn't help but be flattered by that. "After this is done," he said lowly. "I will be all yours again."

Her answering smile was a bit wistful. "Perhaps."

He was adamant in convincing her, but Mint interrupted. "Young master has a floo call." _Damn it._

Narcissa waved him off. "Go. Take care of your business."

He kissed her knuckles swiftly. "Then, I take care of _you_." He winked.

But one floo call turned into several. And two owls turned into four, and would have been more if he'd had more owls at his disposal. He was tired. And expecting to hear from the Board of Governors or even the Minister himself in the morning. _Time for bed._

His mother was already asleep. He slipped under the duvet beside her, spooned to her back. She curled into him almost instinctively. He kissed her hairline and whispered. "Broke another promise, didn't I?" There was no response. "I'm sorry, mother. I just want to get something right. On my own. With no solicitors or bloody goblins or accountants. I need to know I can do this. Please, understand."

He fell asleep without seeing her eyes open in the moonlight, the moisture that glistened in them.

It was an early morning. Draco left Narcissa sleeping soundly and summoned Mint to the office with coffee. Even the elf seemed drowsy as if roused unexpectedly. "Will young master join mistress for tea?"

Draco considered. "Not this morning, Mint. I'm not exactly certain when to expect my calls today, but I imagine they'll be early." Mint nodded and popped away. Draco hoped his mother wouldn't be too disappointed. _If all goes well, this will be wrapped up by lunch. And I will never get myself into such a predicament again._

Kingsley Shacklebolt flooed at nine a.m. Draco leapt to the call. "Minister!"

"Draco?" Already disbelief tinged the African wizard's tone. "Please explain to me what Minerva is on about. You want to rebuild the quidditch pitch at Hogwarts?"

Draco took the Minister's use of first names to heart. "It's really very simple, Kingsley." He launched into his explanation succinctly, referred to his notes when necessary.

"And these people are on board?" Shacklebolt referred to Draco's contacts.

"The only one I haven't heard from is Quality Quidditch, and worst case scenario I'll visit them in person. Kingsley, we're go if the Board is." His foot tapped excitedly.

Shacklebolt sighed. "Can you be here for the next Board of Governors meeting?"

"When?"

"Three o'clock."

"Three o'clock…" Draco glanced at the clock over the floo. "Wait. Three o'clock _today_?"

Kingsley nodded. "Afraid so."

Draco ran a hand through his hair. "I…yes."

"Good!" The Minister was smiling and shaking his head. "Bring your notes. Draco."

"Yes?"

"This could be big." And the Minister was gone.

"Mint!" The elf appeared. "If Quality Quidditch Supplies floos, tell them I'll return their call. Can you prepare my gray suit? The linen one?" He winced. "Please?"

"Yes, young master."

"And as owls return with post, please leave it on my desk." He gathered his notes into a snake-etched leather portfolio that magically tied itself.

"Yes, young master."

"Thanks, Mint." Draco was out the door and down the stairs. "Nine thirty…I've plenty of time." He wondered if his mother would go with him. Found her in the library, reading quietly, bare feet tucked beneath her. She wore an ice blue cotton frock embroidered with wave patterns – for all the world like a peaceful siren on a stone at sea.

"Mother?"

She looked up as though surprised to hear his voice. Her hair was loose and curled softly. She must have let it dry naturally. "Yes?" His necklace sparkled on her throat.

He swallowed. Pleasantries first. "What are you reading today?"

"_Bound to Love._"

"Huh. Is it about necrophilia?"

"No. Bondage." She closed the book and regarded him frankly.

His brow quirked. "Well. I'm sure it has you yoked in." She shrugged. He went for the kill. "How about a trip to Diagon Alley?"

She brightened. "When?"

"Three o'clock?"

She blinked. "Today?"

"Yes. The Minister wants me at the Board of Governors meeting."

Several emotions played on her face. "I see." Fluster seemed to win out. "Shouldn't you attend alone?"

Draco came to kneel before her. "I need you with me. And I thought a nice lunch out would be good for us. We haven't had much time together since I got involved in this project, and now it's nearly done." He took her hands in his. "The trips alone are boring. Lunch alone is boring. Come with me, mother."

She caved. "Very well. I could get some shopping, done I suppose."

"Of course you could." Draco stood and pulled her to her feet. "You look lovely, mother. I think you've taken well to this pale blue."

Suddenly, she was kissing him. Passionately. His knees nearly buckled. "I've missed you," she said into his mouth. She was backing him towards the wall. Soon, he was pressed between the wall and the window and her hands were stroking his hot hardness with insistence. "You've missed me, too."

"Gods, yes, witch." He hadn't even realized…

"Take me to bed. Then we'll go."

Her tongue tasted of the cherry cordials she'd eaten. He sucked on it, and surged forward. She gasped when he pushed her back a few steps, then squealed when he shouldered her briskly. "Draco put me down!"

"I'm taking you to bed, mother." She was lighter than he'd expected and gave him no trouble navigating the stairs, despite her tempting wiggles and slaps to his backside. He cast her onto their bed. Her soft curls spread like ivy tendrils against the stark white duvet.

"Draco," she whispered. Her fingers traveled to her necklace, gripping and rubbing it warmly. Heated eyes watching her son disrobe, she reached for the clasp at the back of her frock, intending to join him.

"Don't." Draco said. He stepped from his trousers. "I want to see you in that dress." He climbed over her, rucking it up with his fingers. He bit a hard nipple through the thin bodice. "I want to fuck you in it."

She nipped at his lips. "Then do it! Now! _Please_!" Her thighs cradled him sweetly.

Draco tugged the crotch of her knickers aside roughly and slipped his cock inside her heat. "Oh, Merlin." He rubbed his face across the dress bodice, loving the feel of the silk on his face. "This is…" The delicious friction of lace scraping his cock incensed him. "So fucking good, mum." He groaned.

Her mewls, gasps and head tosses; her arching back, breasts threatening to spill over the bodice – all these things were the culmination of Draco's greatest weaknesses. He loved his mother wrongly, lusted after her, coveted her and abused her body with his wants.

But she hardly denied him – the woman who birthed him. As any loving matriarch, she spoiled him, offering herself up in a multitude of filthy, magnificent ways. He stared at her face as he fucked her now, consuming her wide eyes, her swollen lips, the hitch in her throat when his cock slipped harsh over her g-spot. Her bent legs widened to swallow him whole as the spring inside her wound tight around him…and sprung hotly as a geyser.

In the months they'd been lovers, they'd learned each other. Divined together. They knew the touches, the words, wicked whispers that set their timing to perfection. They came together like the moon and tide. He rolled in as she rolled out, her pull magnetic and his push cathartic. Caught up in bliss and magic, he spilled into the womb where he'd been spilled so many years before.

After was gentling. Kissing and soothing. Sometimes laughing. They bathed, and dressed in the normality of mother and son on an outing. Draco was smart in his gray suit, portfolio clutched to his side. Narcissa swept her hair into an elegant bun and sported a trim classical burgundy skirt and jacket.

They could floo into Borgin & Burke's with relative ease, but neither was truly willing to re-visit the place, so The Leaky Cauldron it was. They stepped out to nods and even a few begrudging smiles. The Malfoys were earning a respectable place in a restored world and couldn't be more conscious of their precarious position. They ate lunch at a quiet bistro in a private booth where Draco rehearsed his presentation to his mother's critical ear. She gave advice and he took it, softened his approach and tried to 'smile more.'

In the crowded Ministry, Draco leaned down to his mother's ear. "I'm nervous," he admitted.

She shook her head, regarding a directory on the wall. "You've no reason," she told him. "You're ready."

Having found their destination, she set off toward a crowded elevator.

"What if I'm a wreck?"

"You'll be a phenomenon, Draco."

His brows raised as the elevator gate closed them in with a group of office lackeys. "A phenomenon? I rather like the thought of that."

She regarded him askance, lowered her voice to deter attentions. "Do you not realize your charisma, son? That you are handsome and have a capacity for great confidence?"

He nodded. "You're saying I'm a cocky bastard."

She grinned, a grand occurrence on her face. "I'm saying let your natural charm shine through. Don't try to be anything you are not."

"Right. Be a cocky bastard. Got it."

The 32nd floor was a maze of conference rooms that appeared little more than closets until they began to magically expand for arriving delegates. There was a stir at the end of the hall. The Malfoys approached it to see Kingsley Shacklebolt chatting with several elderly witches and wizards. When he saw them, he beamed. "Mr. Malfoy!"

"Minister." Draco extended a hand. "Thank you for the invitation and the opportunity."

Members of the Board were watching this exchange in rapt attention, peeking over and around shoulders. "Well," Kingsley said. "We are excited to hear your proposal. If you're ready, I believe we're all here and can begin early." He smiled at Narcissa. "Will you join us, Mrs. Malfoy?"

Draco looked to his mother with a smarmy raised eyebrow. She bowed gracefully. "Unfortunately, no, Minister. I intend to do some shopping. I will meet with Draco after his…meeting."

"Our loss, then." Kingsley said. Draco's smarmy raised brow became an expression of simpering sulk behind the Minister's back. Narcissa noticed, and pursed her lips disapprovingly. "We usually wrap up business in about two or three hours," Shacklebolt said mildly.

"Two or three hours?" Draco couldn't control the disappointment and shock in his voice. It was Narcissa's turn to grace him with a smarmy smile.

"Well, then." She allowed Kingsley to grace her knuckles with a gentlemanly kiss. "I shall enjoy my shopping with no rush."

"Please, do so," the Minister sighed.

Draco rolled his eyes. _Please do so, _he mocked quietly. Then his mother's hand stroked his face, pulled his cheek down til she could brush her lips sweetly across it. "Good luck, son," she murmured. His knees melted and he watched her hips sway away down the hallway, attuned to the rhythm of her clicking heels.

Kingsley ushered him grandly into a tiny, but growing room, and soon he was engulfed in introductions to people whose names he would hardly remember in five minutes' time. But his presentation went smoothly. He was brisk and as charming as his mother suggested. He smiled as he presented figures and named suppliers, builders and solicitors. He made jokes at his own expense when he unrolled blueprints and flashed pictures of sporty new quidditch gear. He was, in essence, winning this table of witches and wizards whose combined ages would equal well over one thousand years.

And when he was done, he bowed, thanked them for their time, and sat at the rounded ash table to the Minister's right. There was silence for a moment, then the grimacing, groaning and nodding began. Muttering spread around the table til Kingsley raised a hand for quiet. "Mr. Malfoy makes a very valid point here today," he said.

Draco regarded him in mild surprise as he continued somberly. "Hogwarts deserves this opportunity. And if Mr. Malfoy feels generous enough to make it possible, I see no reason to deny its enactment."

Heads nodded. Draco imagined he could hear the cracking of old necks accustomed only to denials. But if the Minister himself had already spoken… The vote taken was a unanimous yes, and Draco didn't hide his relief and his pleasure. _That was quick._ He made to rise, again thanking the Board for their time, but was halted by Shacklebolt.

"Sit, Mr. Malfoy. There's a bit more business to cover here today. One point of which may concern you most directly and…require some thought on your part."

So Draco sat. Wrinkled faces beneath black hat brims sobered considerably. Again, Kingsley's clear voice spoke. "I have felt for some time now – as several other Governors here have, as well – that this Board lacks fresh thought such as this. It has stagnated over time, become more concerned with funds than the true reason we gather here: Hogwarts."

More heads nodded, while others shook. The Minister gestured to a particularly wizened witch nodding off at the end of the table. "Vinarega?" The witch perked up at her name, and Kingsley smiled. "Vinarega is resigning from the Board. She feels her time has come to rest." The witch nodded, and returned to her nap. Kingsley looked now to Draco. "Mr. Malfoy. I would like to nominate you today…to join us here. To take a seat on the Board of Governors for Hogwarts, an institution to which you have shown loyalty and true concern. Would you consider the opportunity?"

_What. The. Fuck._ Draco froze. His heart may have ceased beating a moment. He stared at the numerous eyes staring at him, some warm, others…not so warm. He felt Kingsley's hand fall onto his shoulder.

"I hope this doesn't come as too much of a shock, Mr. Malfoy." The Minister was saying. "But this is how we operate."

_A shock? You could have just crucioed me in the stones, you officiating…officiator. _In fact, his shock was so great, even his internal sarcastic vocabulary had failed him. "I…um…" _Um? Think, fool! Can you do it? Would you? Given the opportunity to make a difference, could you? _He thought of his mother, of how proud she would be, of the restoration of the Malfoy name and how much it meant to her. He schooled his probably embarrassing features and nodded. "I would be honored, Minister – distinguished Governors – to join your ranks. If you see fit to have me." He swallowed.

Kingsley was smiling broadly at him. "Mr. Malfoy. Would you wait outside for a moment?"

Draco nodded. On shaky legs, he entered the opulent hallway and dropped onto a bench. _What the devil am I doing?_ He looked at the door across the way. _What the devil are THEY doing? _They were voting in there. Deciding a path for him that he'd hardly imagined for himself. _Father was on the Board. I doubt he ever did anything beyond buying and selling favors… Will that hurt my chances? _He scrubbed his hand down his face.

When he again looked up, the portrait frame on the wall facing him – empty when he'd arrived – was filled with a gently smiling Albus Dumbledore. Draco was momentarily startled. He blinked at the painting.

"Mr. Malfoy," it said softly.

"Headmaster." His voice lingered over an old regret. He shook it off.

"Doing well for yourself?"

He nodded, mouth rather dry. "Trying, sir."

"Doing well for Hogwarts, I hear."

"I…hope to."

The kind face he remembered winked. "I do believe you shall succeed, Draco…in this task."

What was that strange stinging at the back of his throat? The door opened before he could contemplate it further, and Kingsley stepped out. "You may return, Mr. Malfoy. Ah! Hello, Albus." He'd noticed Dumbledore's presence.

"Minister." Albus' image dipped its head.

Draco nodded to his old headmaster again as he entered the Boardroom. Kingsley followed. The door closed heavily behind them.

When Draco emerged two hours later, his lovely mother was seated most properly on the bench he'd occupied earlier. A few shrunken bags sat beside her, and when she saw her son's face, her expression of patient waiting immediately drew to concern. "Draco?"

Kingsley spoke for her speechless son. "Mrs. Malfoy, you're addressing the newest member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, I'll have you know." He slapped Draco's back. "See you in two weeks, governor?"

"Of course, Minister." But he was watching his mother's face. Kingsley and the rest of the delegation departed noisily, while the two Malfoys stood quietly staring at one another in the dusk-dimmed hallway.

She stepped toward him, eyes moist. "Is this true, Draco?"

He nodded, glanced toward the empty picture frame Dumbledore had inhabited earlier. He was pulled back to his mother. Her hands held his face steady and she smiled up at him. "I am so proud of you."

"I know."

"Are you alright?"

"I think I'm in shock."

She chuckled. "Perhaps you just need to eat. It's nearly supper now. Shall we have a celebratory meal?"

He nodded again and let her pull him almost boneless to the nearest elevator. As the cranky gates parted to admit them, reality began to set in. _I'm on the Board of Governors for Hogwarts. _He smiled. _If I can do this, what else can I do? _His smile became a wolfish grin. _This is just a step, really. And a small one. Already there are changes to be made…advancements. _He chuckled. _They are going to hate me._

"Still in shock, governor?" His mother's cheeks were very pink. The gates slammed shut behind them, and Narcissa took hold of a hanging leather grip.

Draco leaned against the round, brass bar on the lift wall. "I rather like the sound of that," he said, dipping his head close to hers. She let him kiss her, but put her hand against his chest when he stepped closer. "I think I'd like to hear it a bit more."

"Then we could skip supper," she said nervously. "Go directly home?"

He tossed his portfolio to the floor, tugged her bags from her hands. She gasped when he growled and hefted her firm arse onto the brass bar. "Oh, I think we've got a good two or three minutes of bumpy ride all to ourselves, mum."

"Draco." She put her hand against his face. The lift started down.

He placed the hand on his face alongside the one clutching the leather hanger. "Hold on," he hissed in her ear. His mouth stopped any protest as he slipped between her legs, practiced hands making short work of garters and knickers.

The lift jerked suddenly, turning his gentle caress of her warm wetness into a rather rough one. She pulled away from his lips. "Oh, Draco!" Her knees locked round his waist, steadying him as the lift turned and lurched wildly.

He freed his cock, stroked her swollen clit with it. "Sorry this is going to be quick, Narcissa."

She didn't complain, but pulled her arms taut with the overhead grip. "No need to apologize…governor."

"Oh, Merlin, witch." He groaned as he thrust sharply into her. The lift lurched again, and he grabbed the bar beneath her.

It may have been fast, but gods it was hot. Cissa offered up her pale throat to her son's sharp teeth. She used the grip she clung to as a directional device of sorts, adjusting her position on his cock to satisfy her own lust. Every time the lift lurched right or left, or dipped suddenly, his strokes seemed to slip a little deeper, stroke a little longer across the sacred speck inside her. Glancing over his head, she watched the blur of empty or nearly empty floors as they passed, counted down the floor numbers flashing on the dial above the gates.

They were at 22. With each floor that flicked, she tightened exponentially. At 18, she bit her son's ear. "Make me come, governor." Her voice quavered. He wrenched her head to his, kissed her sloppily at 16.

At 14, he was pounding her so fast neither could get a breath. She felt the wave approaching. At 12, it was crashing, and she had to let go of the steadying hanger to clutch her son. The lift lurched violently and Draco pressed her hard into the wall. She coughed.

At 10, he whispered filth to her. "Fuck, you're hot, mum. Your cunt's like heaven, I swear. If this is what I get when I make you proud, I'll be the best man you've ever known. And I promise you'll come like the 12th floor every night we have together. Or better."

His oath finished at 8. He spilled inside her at 6. They'd caught their breath by 3, and at 2 they were straightening their attire. By the time they hit the first floor, they looked like nothing had passed betwixt them but pleasantries. They collected their dropped accoutrements, and exited the rickety lift.

After five o'clock, the Ministry began to clear out and settle. Only a hundred or so over-achievers bustled about, and even they looked to be wrapping up their days. "So," Draco began. "Out to eat? Or home?" He knew damned well she was ready for a bath, and hopefully proper, indolent sex in their comfy feather bedding.

She gave him a baleful look. "Home, I should think."

He smiled and curled her hand over his arm. "Very well," he said. "I suppose Mint can cook up a supper for us?" They strolled toward a floo.

"Mint shan't mind that a bit, I imagine," Narcissa cooed. "Governor."

"Good, good." Draco escorted her into the floo. "And directly to bed after supper, I think." She looked at him curiously. "Gubernatorial business tomorrow, you know." He grabbed a handful of powder.

"Any gubernatorial business tonight?" She asked, teasing him.

"None at all." He looked down at her suggestively. "I never mix business with pleasure. Malfoy Manor!" He tossed the powder, and took them home.

**AN: **Always - thanks to the dragon who advises with fiery breath. Also to Cherepaha for making an exception for me, and to all my loyal readers and reviewers - I thank you. You make this worth while. Oh! Big thanks to Aerosmith - for the musical inspiration.


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